


Wilbur's hands are gentle

by lucradiss



Series: MCYT SickFics [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Technoblade gets sick for once, That's it, that's the entire work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26354923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucradiss/pseuds/lucradiss
Summary: In which Techno's head hurts and the only person who's allowed to touch his hair is his friend (brother) Wilbur.--No shipping,,, please this is just family dynamic shit
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot
Series: MCYT SickFics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915108
Comments: 10
Kudos: 688





	Wilbur's hands are gentle

Techno took a drag of his cigarette, the smoke floating away from his lips in a thin stream that blended in with the snow that fell. Snowflakes danced in the air, falling and making their home on the trees, the ground, the railing, and in Techno's hair, which swayed with each biting wind. Among the snow beneath him he saw mobs roam. He would be down there defending his home if he didn't feel so shitty. He didn't dare touch Kingslayer then, who lay sheathed and leaning on his bedroom wall, for fear that he would fuck up and hurt himself or the other three souls that lived with him.  
He shivered. Even through his mantle he felt cold, and while he wanted so badly to go inside and sleep, he knew he wouldn't be able to. He hadn't been sleeping well these past few nights, and it had taken its toll on his body. It was awful. He felt run down. His head ached, bones chilled, hands shaking. He could feel himself coming down with something, and while he was sure it was just a cold, that didn't make him feel any better about being sick. He coughed, a chest-rattling, deep cough, and sighed, taking another drag.

"I thought you were trying to quit."

Technoblade turned when he heard a new voice, soft enough so as not to hurt his head but loud enough for him to hear over the trees that shifted and rustled in the breeze beyond their castle grounds. Techno hummed.

"Things don't always go accordin' to plan, I guess," He practically rasped, his voice thin and fading, shrugging and taking one more drag before flicking the cig off the railing, watching it with a stoic gaze as it fell two stories to land on a zombie, who took damage and looked around, confused. 

"Aren't you cold?" Wilbur asked, his tone kind as he walked up to lean next to Techno.

"Yeah. Aren't you?"

"Yes," Wilbur replied, picking at a string on his hoodie. "It's late, Techno. What are you doing up still?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Soot."

Wilbur chuckled at the formality. "I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I."

"I'm not the one who was PvPing with Dream all day, though."

Techno sighed. Wilbur had a point. He was still sore from the dozens of times he was killed and he was sure Dream was as well, but the pain from sparring mixed with his feeling of exhaustion just made him feel terrible altogether. He shrugged.

"You should rest," Wilbur said, watching Techno's face out of the corner of his eye.

"I will."

"You always say that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Wilbur sighed and shook his head, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. A strand of pink hair floated over and onto the pale skin, and Wilbur watched it.  
"Your hair is down?"

"The ponytail made my headache worse."

Wilbur nodded. "I can braid it for you, if you'd like. I know you don't like it loose like how it is."

Technoblade considered this for a moment. Although he knew Wilbur's hands were gentle and he knew how to properly handle Techno's hair, he was always hesitant to let people near it. Phil was much too rough and he wouldn't dare to let Tommy touch it; and though Wilbur always did a good job and made sure to be soft when handling it, he didn't have a lot of trust in people when it came to his hair. Nonetheless, he shrugged again.

"Sure."

Wilbur smiled. "Okay! Let's go inside. I'll make you some tea and we can relax, and then we can sit down and I can do it."

Techno nodded. "Okay."

Wilbur turned on his heel and stalked inside, his legs long and strides longer. Techno, being exhausted, trudged in after him, dragging his feet. Noticing this, Wilbur slowed down. As they walked through Techno's room, he shrugged off his mantle and tossed it on the bed, giving it one last look with an emotion that Wilbur couldn't even begin to decipher before following the other man through the threshold and into the living room.

He watched his friend sit heavily on the couch and rub his temples, eyes closed. Wilbur felt for the man- he was paler than usual, dark bags under his glazed eyes, new scars forming on healing wounds and bandages on fresh ones. Without his crown and his mantle, he looked ... mortal. He didn't know if that was the right word, but he looked almost vulnerable, almost peasant-like, almost ... human. Techno felt Wilbur's eyes on him and opened them again, only to see Wilbur walking through the living room to get to the kitchen in order to prepare the two's tea. 

"Are you okay, Techno?"

"Never better."

The sarcasm in Technoblade's voice could be cut with a butter knife. Wilbur fought back the urge to roll his eyes- he hated when Techno got sarcastic like that. All closed off and stony. The man was already ridiculously hard to read by voice alone; when that drawl changed, Wilbur couldn't understand what his friend was feeling. That unnerved him greatly.

He walked out of the kitchen and looked at Techno again for a couple of moments. Techno paid him no mind, picking at a string on one of his sleeves. The tea kettle started whistling loudly and Wilbur saw Techno wince in pain. He swore under his breath and took it off the burner, letting it cool for a minute before pouring it into cups for the two of them to drink.

When Techno received his cup, he sniffed at it, scrunching up his nose in disdain. "What kinda tea is this?" Wilbur smiled.

"Chamomile. It's supposed to help you relax."

"Well, it smells like piss."

"Just drink it. You'll like it; it's good."

Techno eyed the cup suspiciously and then sighed, taking a small sip. Wilbur counted this as a win and took a sip of his own after blowing on it to cool it off. They drank in relative silence, listening to the air conditioning and the birds outside and even Phil's snoring through their paper-thin block walls. You would have thought that in a castle as well-built as theirs they would have walls thick enough to muffle noise, but that wasn't the case.

Wilbur noticed Techno fidgeting with his cup after a couple minutes. "Are you done?"

"Yeah." 

Wilbur nodded and stood, reaching a hand out to take the cup. Techno hesitated, not very much liking other people doing things for him, but ended up giving Wilbur the cup anyways. He walked into the kitchen, putting the cups in the dishwasher before leaving and putting his hands on his hips.

"Alright, are you ready?"

Techno sighed again, rolling his eyes light-heartedly. "I guess so."

He stood and stretched, his joints popping considerably, before following Wilbur into his room and sitting down on the bed, moving his mantle to the side so that Wilbur could sit behind him. They've done this before- this was nothing new. But even still, Techno never knew what to do or say when it was happening. He wanted that comfortable silence with his friend, but he was afraid of doing the wrong thing or saying something out of line. He could be abrasive and aggressive and Wilbur was ... gentle. And kind. He didn't want to ruin the friendship they had by being his rude, sarcastic self.  
Still, though, Wilbur sat behind him and started braiding. The pleats were loose and comfortable to Techno, just as they always were when Wilbur did his hair. He could feel tiny, gentle tugs at his hair, but nothing he couldn't handle. He hissed when a single strand got pulled, but Wilbur apologized and released that part of the braid, redoing it to be less painful.

Over time, Techno began to feel the fatigue that plagued his bones. It was warm in his room, the fireplace burned and did its job of heating the space well. He yawned, blinking his eyes to wake himself up. He turned his head (only slightly, so as not to disrupt Wilbur's work) to watch the snowflakes outside, his eyes trained on each one as it danced to the ground below.  
His head was made from lead. He was exhausted. He could still feel the sword cutting through his pale flesh, leaving new scars upon respawnal. He felt the pommel of Kingslayer heavy in his palm, weighted with the blood of his enemies and the byproduct of his sins. He squeezed his hand into a fist, the feeling now gone. 

"Are you okay, Techno?"

He looked up, turning around to see Wilbur looking at him with slight worry in his brows. "You seem to be deep in thought," Wilbur commented, his brows furrowing a centimeter more.

Techno gave him a small smile. "I'm fine, Wilbur. Thank you."

Wilbur tilted his head a tad and then sighed, nodding. "Okay."

They resumed the comfortable silence they'd both been enjoying and fell into rhythm, Techno watching the snow fall outside while Wilbur expertly weaved Techno's long, thick hair into a soft braid.  
He sighed, leaning forward just a tad so he could lean his chin on his palm. He felt Wilbur shifting forward to reach Techno's hair easier upon his doing this. He eyed the crown that sat regal upon his dresser adjacent to the bed. The crown- hiscrown- created the facade of the unfeeling, all-seeing king who stood tall over his foes. But as much as he killed and how good he was at it, that's all he was- a killer, holding the facade of a false king appointed by a fake crown, wielding a sword who probably had more claim to the throne than he. He furrowed his eyebrows. Nighttime brought these self-destructive thoughts and upon morning they faded, but they were always there and always poking their way through holes in the walls of his mind. 

He yawned quietly and blinked to keep himself awake. The clock in the room ticked methodically, Wilbur's practiced hands weaving expertly behind him in a steady rhythm: over, under, over. The fireplace warmed his aching bones and he was comfortable out of his mantle, that weight lifted off of his shoulders. He sighed- he seemed to be doing a lot of sighing that night- and let himself relax, if even just a tad. Before he knew it, his eyes were slipping closed and as hard as he fought them, he could feel himself fading into a slumber. He didn't want to fall asleep with Wilbur in the room- to see Technoblade sleeping, so vulnerable, so open, so killable; it would ruin his reputation with the other man. Still, though, despite his tired mind's protest, his eyes fell shut and he floated in a light doze. 

"What color rubber band would you like for the end of your braid, Techno? Pink?" When there was no response, Wilbur stopped braiding. "Techno?" He asked again. Technoblade could hear the furrow in the other's brow.

He didn't answer. He couldn't answer- not really. He wasn't awake nor was he fully asleep, but he didn't have the energy to wake himself up the little bit it would take to speak.

Wilbur's tone fell hushed. "Are you asleep?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Techno felt his ears twitch, but otherwise he made no movements or sounds that would indicate his wakefulness. Wilbur exhaled lightly and took the rubber band he had on his wrist, tying off the end of Techno's hair. The man stayed as quiet as possible as he gingerly climbed off the bed, Techno feeling the small dip in the mattress level out.  
Suddenly, there was a hand, gentle but firm, on his shoulder, lightly shaking him.  
He blinked awake. "Wha ...?"

"You should go to bed, dude. You seem absolutely exhausted."

Techno rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Sorry for fallin 'asleep on you ..."

"Don't be," Wilbur replied, his smile kind. "Now, lay back on your pillows and go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

Wilbur stood straight and turned on his heel, walking out of the room and turning the light off as he went, not giving Techno a chance to say anything. "Sweet dreams, Mr. Blade."

And the door closed, leaving the now-alone Techno eyeing it with disdain. As lone-wolf as he tended to be, he felt the longing for companionship tugging at his resolve, thinning it almost to the point where he would have asked Wilbur to stay with him, to help him feel better than, well ... this . He groaned softly and fell back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt his braid against his back and gently pulled it out from underneath him, turning it over in his hands and inspecting Wilbur's handiwork. Perfect, as always. He dropped it next to him, sighed and closed his eyes, trying to replicate the feeling Wilbur's presence had induced in his own head.

Wilbur on the other hand, as he closed the door with his own sigh, walked over to the couch where the two had been sitting previous and sat down, hands in his lap. He frowned, playing with the dead skin below his nails.  
Techno had looked so small on that bed, hunched over and breathing deeply as Wilbur braided his hair. He was smaller than Wilbur, of course, but he made up for it with the menacing aura he exuded.  
He'd never seen Techno asleep before. He supposed that was deliberate. Every time the three would have a night together, whether it be a movie night or just hanging out, Phil and Wilbur would fall asleep and Techno would still be awake, as if he were watching over them, or something of the sort. Then in the morning he would get up earlier than them, to train or to go out and explore the gale beyond their abode, only to come back beaten and cut and battered. Wilbur would scold him and Phil would silently tend to his wounds, knowing no amount of reprimand would stop Techno's antics.  
It was rather jarring to see his friend like that, slouched, eyes closed, asleep by all intents and purposes. The man lost that air of regality, face falling slack as he rested, albeit restlessly. He always seemed so tired, all messy hair and deep purple rings under an analytical glare. He wished his friend would take better care of himself- this probably wouldn't have happened if Techno ate, drank and rested when he needed to, but of course that wouldn't happen. Wilbur frowned, pulling off a piece of dead skin with a yank, hissing quietly at the pain.

"You shouldn't do that. Bad habit."

Wilbur looked up at Techno's tired drawl and frowned. "You should be sleeping."

Techno shrugged, flopping down on the couch next to his friend with a tired sigh. "I know."

Their words fell short. Wilbur didn't know what to say- Techno was stubborn; telling him to just go back to bed wouldn't work and would probably result in an argument. Staying as they were wouldn't work either, as they both needed sleep, Techno especially. He frowned more deeply and looked to the side.  
Techno yawned next to him and Wilbur looked back, tilting his head slightly. The younger man looked like absolute shit, and he felt so badly for him. If Techno was outwardly presenting this exhausted, god only knew how awfully he must feel on the inside. 

"Y'know," Techno started, his voice a quiet grumble. "I have a bad habit of bein 'mean and standoffish because I'm afraid to ... connect, I guess. I'm tryna fix that as I move along in my life, but bad habits die hard, I guess. There aren't many people in this world I feel comfortable talkin 'to. Or hangin' around ... "He sighed. "I guess what I'm tryna say ... what I'm tryna say is that you're okay."

Wilbur felt his heart swell at this candid remark from his friend. He smiled. "Thank you, Techno. That means a lot."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't get all sappy with me, Wilbur. I was just makin 'a statement."

"I know."

They fell silent once again. Wilbur thought about Techno's words; they felt thought out, but a part of Wilbur felt that they would never have fallen from Techno's mouth had he been healthy. The rest of him hoped that wasn't true. The fact that Techno uttered them at all was surprising, but Wilbur knew they were the truth. They came from the man's heart of hearts, the deepest reaches of his soul and spilled over through his tusked mouth with a drawl that almost nearly evolved into a tired slur. He sighed. This didn't come from coherent thought. Of course, it didn't. Of course, it didn't make the words any less true, but Wilbur just would have hoped Techno would wake up and remember it in the morning. 

He suddenly felt a weight on his side and looked left to see Techno, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Wilbur didn't dare move other than to slowly sit back, but froze when Techno shifted. When the man settled, Wilbur breathed a sigh of relief. He waited for just a few more moments, then moved Techno so that he had his head in Wilbur's lap, grabbing the blanket from behind him and covering his friend's aching body with it. Techno's eyes fluttered open, glazed, sleep-clouded, exhausted . 

"Wil ...?"

"Shh. Go to sleep, Techno. Don't worry, I'm here."

And with that, Techno let his eyes slip closed once more and he succumbed to the sleep he so desperately needed, head in the lap of a man he considered a brother. His breath evened out and Wilbur smiled, hand brushing over clumps of pink hair that had fallen out of the braid in the past thirty minutes or so. He sighed contently, looking up and through the window in the room, seeing dawn reaching her rosy fingers up from the hills, painting the land before her with wonderful pinks and oranges and blues from night's residuals. He smiled again, this time a little wider, and let his own head fall onto the back of the couch, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

The next morning, Phil would walk out to see his two friends passed out on the couch, not having moved from their previous spots. He would see Techno sleeping for the first time since they were children, with his head in Wilbur's lap in a rare show of vulnerability. He would see Wilbur, the slightest of bags under his eyes (though not even close to rivaling his and Techno's own), as he breathed deeply, knowing that when the other brit woke up, his neck would be absolutely killing him.  
He'd go into the kitchen and start the first breakfast that Techno didn't make. He'd need to shush Tommy as he came out of his own room to start the day, as always too loudly. The boy would be confused, would see the two on the couch, and roll his eyes, but be quiet nonetheless.

And when the two woke up, they'd be with family.


End file.
